


Ship of Fools

by Caeseria



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Blood, Crushes, Getting Together, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Injury Recovery, Langst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Protective Team, Revenge, Shiro (Voltron) is So Done, Team Feels, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23482894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeseria/pseuds/Caeseria
Summary: Returning from a mission that was anything but simple, the Paladins are shocked to discover the Castle of Lions, drifting in space and heavily damaged. Once they've boarded the ship, Lance and Keith are immediately caught up in a deadly game of cat and mouse against an enemy they don't understand or anticipate: an elite group of Galra fighters.  Their leader, Harag, is out for personal revenge and will stop at nothing to get it, drawing both Keith and Lance into a nightmare that could have fatal consequences.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 242





	Ship of Fools

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally supposed to be written for a Lance bang, which, (no pun intended) imploded messily. I was paired up with the amazing and talented EeNii as my artist, and they came up with the initial idea for this story through a sketch that captured my attention straightaway. I really wanted to write this, especially after seeing the initial artwork they'd drawn, and so we decided to carry on together outside of the bang and finish this. This is part one of that story and our collaboration, and I'm really proud of it! EeNii has drawn a few sketches you'll find scattered throughout the chapter, and a stunning full color piece for the finale. I hope you enjoy our work! :D
> 
> You can find me on twitter as caeseria_nsfw  
> Artwork: EeNii/Szotyola on Instagram @ instagram.com/szotyola/ and on twitter @EeNiiart
> 
> <3

_**Ship of Fools**  
_

_Do we not sail on this ship of fools?_

_Why is life so precious and so cruel?_

It takes Lance approximately thirty seconds to realize they’ve walked into a trap. Thirty agonizing seconds, where time seems to slow like molasses. Lance can hear his heart beat in his chest, feel the grip of his rifle, finger poised on the trigger. Can feel the grass beneath his feet giving way to packed earth as they move into the village proper. 

He raises the rifle, using the scope to check out their surroundings. The team is spread out, the larger lions – Black, Yellow and Lance's Blue – hidden in the foliage of the thick forest that surrounds the village. The smaller lions are within the village limits, dropped down just outside the market square, because Keith was impatient and Pidge too curious for her own good. 

Despite the SOS call for assistance that the Castle had received, the place is like a ghost town. No sign of movement, only the occasional breeze moving the dust in lazy eddies. Whatever had happened here – whenever this place had been attacked – it had happened a _long_ time ago. The scorch marks on the walls, the signs of fire, are old, dulled by time. The crumbled brick and mortar that make up the buildings is unstable, long abandoned, edges worn away by weather and time. 

This place had been dead for eons before the Paladins got here, Lance realizes. Why would someone try to draw them here? What would be the point? Why draw Voltron here, of all places? Unless -

“Guys, it’s a trap,” Lance hisses urgently in his comm. “I think we shou – “

“Paladins! Return to the castle immediately! We are under attack!” Allura’s panicked voice cuts over the top of Lance’s.

Lance turns to see if he can locate the others; spots Keith across the open market square just opposite him, staring back at him. Their eyes meet, and Lance can see the emotion on Keith's face; anger at being caught by surprise, worry for Lance, and a fatalistic resignation. Lance watches Keith sigh, watches his eyes slide shut.

There’s an odd sounding click from one of the buildings further away, the noise ominous and abrupt. 

Time seems to freeze.

And then the world explodes in a shower of light and sound, dirt and rock, and searing heat.

* * *

Lance has no idea how much time has passed since the bomb went off when he regains consciousness. He's lying at an odd angle on his back; arms splayed out like a ragdoll, back arched uncomfortably because he's been thrown back onto his jet pack. With a groan he rolls to the side and gets a knee under himself, pushing up onto his elbows. 

The first thing he notices is that it's raining; cold, wet droplets splashing onto the dusty ground in front of him, making a musical pinging noise as they hit his armour and helmet. Lance can't remember the last time he felt rain on his skin, but he can feel it now against his face like a caress from a lover, long missed but not forgotten. The sky is heavy with grey cloud, but when he looks across the village, he can make out large clods of earth, thrown up by the explosion; chunks of mud brick and thatch, and smoky fire, eating slowly away at some of the forest and what remained of the village square. Lance shakes his head to clear his vision and makes out something lying not far away on its side; tones of green and white, red hair in the dirt, wet from the rain. He crawls toward it, sudden anxiety clawing at him because it can't – he _can't_ deal with this. It's unthinkable. "Pidge?" he says, his voice catching as he crawls beside the body. He reaches out hesitantly, rolls the body over with shaking hands, relieved to come face to face with Pidge's blinking eyes. She's got a smear of dirt on her face, a cut lip, but she's alive.

"Lance?" Pidge bites out. "Did we get blown up again?"

Lance huffs out a laugh, relieved that Pidge's weird sense of humour is still intact. "Yeah, we gotta – fuck, the castleship. This was a trap all along, a distraction."

 _[Lance, do you read me?]_ Shiro's frantic voice crackles over the comm. _[I can't reach Pidge; do you have her?]_

"Shiro? I got Pidge," Lance replies. "Both of us are good, just cuts and scratches, I think. Her helmet was damaged, so you'll have to talk through me. Please tell me you have Keith and Hunk?"

Pidge pushes to a sitting position, leaning closer to Lance as if she'll be able to hear the conversation through osmosis. Lance watches Pidge shake out her wrist and wince. "Shiro? You got Keith and Hunk, right?" Lance taps at his helmet when he gets no answer. "Shiro?"

 _[I got Hunk]_ the hesitant response comes back.

Lances eyes go wide, settle on Pidge's. "Where's Keith?" Lance demands. "Shiro? Where is Keith?"

 _[We need to regroup]_ Shiro responds, maddeningly vague. _[I can't see you through the debris. Let's meet up by the Red Lion. Can you do that, Lance?]_

"Of course." Lance glances at Pidge. "Let's move, shortstop. Shiro is being evasive and you know how much I hate that shit."

Pidge grits her teeth and climbs slowly to her feet. Lance helps her stagger up, his grip firm but careful on her arm, until she's got her balance. "What's wrong?" Pidge asks. 

"I'm gonna take point," Lance says, activating his Bayard, settling it against his shoulder like a comforting weight, the rifle calming his anxiety a little. "We don't know if there's anyone else lurking around here waiting to finish the job the explosion started. Shiro wants us to head for the Red Lion."

 _[Scratch that idea]_ a voice says suddenly. _[Red is damaged; I can't get her to respond and I'm locked out]_

"Keith!" Lance lets out a shuddering sigh, for once not caring if anyone else picks up on the relief and fear in his voice.

 _[Lance, you're ok?]_ Keith's voice is shaky, a little more gravelly than usual. Cleary exhausted, but worried.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Cuts and bruises. What's up with Red?"

 _[Guys, let's regroup and discuss. I'd rather not remain in the open.]_ Shiro's voice is terse, but Lance isn't sure he can blame him; it must be like herding a bag of cats, trying to keep the Paladins organized sometimes. _[Yellow is closest, let's meet there.]_

"Roger that," Lance says with a nod, ignoring Pidge's eye roll and smirk. "Can you walk?" he asks.

"Yep. Wrist is sprained, and my ankle is sore, but I'll live," she says. "What about you?"

Lance takes a quick moment to assess himself. His back hurts a little; probably bruised from landing on his jetpack. He doesn't remember what happened immediately after the explosion, so he must have been knocked out by the concussive force. He's got a cut on his left thigh, right through his flight suit, but it's not bleeding much, if at all, at the moment. His cheek stings beneath the helmet, probably another cut. "I'll live," he says, smirking, trying not to wince. Yep, definitely a cut on his face. He does _not_ want that to scar, oh my god. He licks his lips, tastes the copper tone of blood. _Great_.

By the time they make it to the Yellow Lion, Pidge has walked off her ankle injury, and Lance is ignoring most of his cuts and bruises in favour of just getting the hell off this shitty little planet. Shiro's waiting with Hunk, leaning against the foot of the lion. Keith is pacing. As soon as he sees Lance and Pidge he brightens, stalking over, grabbing Lance by the forearm and pulling him closer. His hand rests carefully against Lance's helmet, as if he can cup Lance's face. His smile is fond, a little unsure, like he's been worried. Keith's not one for public displays of affection, so Lance doesn't quite know what to make of Keith's sudden interest. Lance tries to keep a poker face on, but he has to fight the way his heart races, force down the blush that tries to stain his cheeks. 

Shiro pushes away from his resting spot against the lion. "Okay, team, time is of the essence. Allura's message was the last thing we got before the explosion went off. Have any of you had contact since?"

Everyone shakes their head. Shiro nods. "This explosion was deliberate, so we have to assume that the attack on the ship was also part of that plan. We need to get back there immediately and see if it's still in one piece."

"It'll be hard to destroy something that size," Hunk says. 

"This is the Galra," Keith bites out. "They're capable of anything. We should get moving."

"Welp, Green's refusing to budge," Pidge says. Her eyes are unfocused and it's clear she's communing with her lion. "She's got her shields up; something about Red. We should consider her out of action."

Shiro lets out a sigh. Lance watches his left hand twitch, almost moving as if he wants to pinch the bridge of his nose, but he just keeps himself in check. "Okay, fine. Keith, you go with Lance in Blue. Pidge, you're with Hunk. Let's get back to the ship as soon as we can. We'll come back for Red and Green once we know what's going on with the castle. Agreed?"

Everyone nods. "Let's do this," Keith says, heading into the forest and toward where Lance had left Blue. 

Shiro raises an eyebrow at Lance as if to say, _hey, he's your problem now_. Lance gives Shiro finger guns, walking backward for a few steps, because he knows it'll annoy the crap out of Shiro, and it's expected. Shiro snorts, shaking his head.

"Business as usual, oh yeah," Lance mutters, turning back around and striding after Keith.

* * *

Lance slips into the pilot's seat of his lion and watches as Blue comes on line. Screens light up, detailing inside air pressure, flight status, and outside atmospherics. He can hear Keith shifting behind him, resting on one hand on the back of Lance's chair and leaning one hip against the side. He watches Lance glance through the HUD readouts, and Lance takes a quick moment to admire the steady fall of the rain outside. The sky has greyed, become heavy with what will be approaching thunder, and Lance doesn't want to leave. He wants to stay and watch the weather unfold over the silent, burning village, watch the heavy raindrops turn the fire to steam and smoky ash. Raindrops run down Blue's screens, pattering softly and then becoming heavier as Lance directs the lion into the sky. Keith grips harder at Lance's seat as the atmosphere presses down on them and the rain starts to run backward against the windshield, then freezes as they crest the planet's atmosphere, the ship juddering slightly as they reach space. 

He can hear Hunk chattering over the comm with Shiro and Pidge, but Lance is content to let it wash over him for the time being. He shifts to look at Keith, still leaning against Lance's chair and staring out into space.

"You doing ok, cowboy?" Lance asks, grinning impishly in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

Keith narrows his eyes at Lance. " _Cowboy_? Is that this week's stupid nickname?"

"Maybe." Lance gives Keith a wink. "You get banged up down there or you okay?"

"I’m okay. Got thrown around like everyone else but Red blocked most of the major debris that would have potentially done damage. I think that's why she's not responding." Keith shrugs. "I'll need to take a proper look at her once we check on Allura and Coran."

"I should have noticed sooner," Lance says. "It should have been pretty obvious it was a trap."

"Why would it have been obvious?" Keith's cocks his head; the gesture looks a little strange while he's wearing his helmet.

"The village was deserted. There was no sign of life."

Keith leans over, closer to Lance, and stares him down. "Lance…" he shakes his head and then fixes him with a hard stare. "Why is it your job to notice these things? So the village was deserted. That wouldn't explain anything other than the populace had taken cover somewhere because the Galra had attacked. We've seen deserted villages before and they haven't blown up. You can't blame yourself for this."

Lance glances out the window. "I'm our sharpshooter, Keith. I should have seen the trap for what it was. One of us could have been killed. _All_ of us could have been killed."

He feels Keith's bare fingers on his chin, turning his head so that he can make eye contract. Keith's stripped off his suit gloves and holds them in his other hand, but he's not relinquishing his grip on Lance's chin. "Lance, you're our sharpshooter, yes, but you're there solely for that. You're there for backup, to take the shot if needed. It's not your job to magically see through traps and warn everyone. The fact that you did in itself is amazing. I saw nothing but a deserted village, right up until it blew up in our faces."

Lance licks his lips, the moment heavy as he stares at Keith, trying to read him, trying to read if he's lying. Eventually Keith lets go of Lance's chin and stands back up, but he's still staring at Lance, expression fierce – intense in a way Lance can't quite place. He turns back to the screens, shifts his grip on Blue's steering column and nudges her toward the right a little. The ship is a speck in the distance, the white hull glowing a little from this system's sun. Maybe Keith is right; maybe he can't be the eyes of the team all the time. Still, he feels… inadequate somehow, like he's not living up to his potential. That, once again, he's not quite all he could be. He's still chasing his heroes; first Shiro and then Keith, both of them so far ahead of him that they'd vanished, disappeared. One into the darkness of space, the other into the darkness of the desert. Neither one had acknowledged him back then, simply a boy from Cuba, destined to maybe be an average but competent cargo pilot if he stuck to the rules and played it safe. 

He still feels like he has something to do, something pulling at the threads of fate, tugging on the skeins that form the weft and warp of the destiny chosen for him. 

The castleship grows steadily larger in the window, and Lance pushes forward on the controls, speeding up a little. He draws next to the Black Lion, Green flanking Shiro's left side, and he sees something glitter in the darkness of space. 

"Anybody else just see that?" Lance breathes out, leaning forward as if that alone will make things clearer. He thinks that he saw light glance off something small to the right of Blue, but it’s vanished just as quickly, like it’s cloaked, but that the cloak had failed for a split second. 

"Lance, that's – " Keith begins.

There's a sudden battering noise against Blue's hull, and then the wash of bright light and a concussive explosion that throws Keith to the floor. "Keith!" Lance shouts at the same time that the HUD flickers in and out, static making the displays fuzzy and indistinct. Alarms light up the cockpit with flashing red and orange, the sudden noise jarring, making Lance's adrenaline ratchet up until he manages to silence it. Video pops up from the team; Shiro in one screen and Pidge and Hunk crowded in the left. They're all shouting at once, but right now Lance is more concerned with a groaning Keith picking himself up off the floor and the lights flickering in the cockpit.

"Jesus Christ-" Lance mutters, twisting in his seat. "Keith? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Keith says, shaking his head as if trying to clear his vision, attempting to get his feet under him.

"Fuck, dude, get in the jump seat and strap in!" Lance barks. Just as Keith pulls the jump seat down and his suit activates the restraints to hold him in place, the lion is rocked with another concussive blast. This time the entire window is washed with explosive light, and it takes a second for Lance to finally clue in to what he's seeing – or not seeing. "Mines!" Lance shouts into the comm. "Guys, get the lions away from the castle. This whole area has gotta be mined!"

Lance spins Blue on a dime, pulling her abruptly to a stop a few thousand kilometers from the blast zone. "I'm sick of fucking exploding," Lance bites out. "Can we go, like, a single fucking week without someone trying to blow me the fuck up?!"

Keith opens his mouth as if to say something and then shrugs, because it's clear Lance has a point.

The HUD is still flickering a sickly blue color, flashing off and on. It doesn't appear as if the lion is venting oxygen though, and she seems to be intact.

"Lance, you and Keith okay?" Shiro's flickering image pops up again, followed by Hunk and Pidge in Green.

"Yeah, we're in one piece. Keith's a bit banged up but he'll live." Lance senses movement from the jump seat. " _AND_ he's strapped into the jump seat and won't be getting up to join the conversation, since he can hear it from over there perfectly fine, right Keith?" Lance glares over his shoulder. "In case we blow up again?"

Keith sighs and rolls his eyes. "Yeah. I'm fine, Shiro. I can see you guys from here."

"What happened?" Hunk asks.

"I need to check something," Lance mutters, leaning to the side and activating the sonic canon. He turns Blue carefully on the spot, getting a good three hundred degrees of vision to the front and sides, watching the screen light up with potential viable targets now that he knows what to look for.

"Shit," Keith mutters, watching the screen. "Mines. Guys, the area surrounding the ship is littered with mines."

"What are the Galra up to?" Pidge asks, although the question seems pretty redundant at this point.

"I'd say this was a concerted effort to eradicate the team at the very least," Keith says, crossing his arms and frowning.

"Or they just don't want us any closer," Hunk points out.

Video Shiro nods. "Agreed. They seem to be pulling out all the stops on this. The lions are collateral damage but they don't seem to be worried about that if it means they can take us out as well."

"So what do we do?" Lance asks. He gestures toward the castle. "We can't get close to the ship, we've got radio silence from Allura and Coran." He glances down at the readout from the sonic canon. "Oh shit." Lance starts typing rapidly. "Guys, I'm sending you this information. We got a problem; the castle is heavily damaged."

This time when Keith unbuckles from the jump seat Lance doesn't stop him. Everyone is pulling up the schematics Lance had sent, examining the evidence. The castleship rotates slowly in space, and to one side is a trail of flotsam and debris, glittering as it reflects the light of the system's sun. Most of it is small detritus, but there are also larger panels and what looks like the remains of one of the four nacelles. The team hold their breaths as the ship rotates slowly, finally showing its damaged side. It's not as bad as Lance had expected if he's being honest with himself; but it's still… he doesn't have a word for it, yet. This side of the ship has a gaping hole in it, and when Lance zooms in, he can see the inside, four or five floors visible through the blown-out hull. Debris spins lazily in the void of space.

"There are lights on in other parts of the ship," Hunk says after a moment. "We can assume that, while it looks bad, the ship's internal sensors will have detected the explosion and shut down the internal partitions, preventing a ship-wide blowout and loss of oxygen. That area of the ship will be dangerous, but the rest of it will be intact—providing the ship doesn't drift into the mine field or experience another explosion."

"Those are big 'ifs'," Pidge mutters.

"The ship _is_ drifting," Lance points out. "We need to secure it immediately and stop it before it does enter the mine field. We need to get to the bridge."

"Do we assume that, if we have no radio contact with the ship, everyone is dead?" Pidge asks in a small voice.

Shiro opens his mouth to reply and then closes it again, clearly thinking better of what he was going to say. "Pidge, I'm sorry, I don't know," he settles on. There's a moment of silence, everyone lost in their thoughts.

"I can maybe use Blue's ice canon to freeze the space mines," Lance says after a moment. "If they are inert and encased in ice, we should be able to glide through the field and they _should_ bounce off harmlessly."

Pidge nods. "Lance is right. Provided we go at the correct speed, we should be able to push them to the side, like a ship pushing ice away from its bow, or an old minesweeper."

Shiro nods. "Okay, good, team. That solves how we get close. Lance, I assume you can get Blue to help you with the calculations if Pidge plots us a course?"

"You got it." 

"What about the ship?" Keith says, sitting on Lance's armrest so he can see the team better. "Do we all go in together?"

"I think we have to assume that the ship has probably been boarded," Shiro says. "I can't believe the Galra would have two very elaborate attempts to blow up the Paladins of Voltron and not follow through until they are sure every single member is dead."

"Maybe they're after the castleship itself," Keith points out.

"I thought Zarkon was after Black?" Hunk says. "Or has that changed now?"

Shiro shrugs. "Unknown at this point, Hunk. We should assume that the ship has been boarded with the Galra intending to take it for themselves. We can't see them yet, but we should expect them to be there."

"So what's the plan?" Lance asks. "We go in guns blazing?"

"No." Shiro smirks. "We need to do this tactically. Since Black's garage is near the top of the ship, I'll head there; see if I can't get to the bridge to check on Coran and Allura. Pidge, Hunk, I want you to get back to Yellow's bay, if you can, and check on the state of the ship's systems from the lower decks. I want diagnostics on what we are working with and what can be done to keep the ship operational; also, contingency plans if we lose more floors or another section to decompression. I'll need you two where I can reach you if you need to talk any of us through immediate repairs. Keith, Lance, both of you stick near the middle of the ship. I want both of you available to head to where you are needed, and if you run into any Galra, you have my permission to take them out and deal with them as you see fit."

"Sounds good," Keith says, and Lance nods, along with the rest of the team.

"Okay." Shiro looks mildly relieved that he's not getting any talk back from the team. "Let's get in there and find out what the damage is. Pidge, you got those calculations for Lance?"

"Sure do." 

A line of text pops up on the HUD at the same time that the slot for Lance's Bayard appears in the console. "Guess I know what I'm doing now," Lance says with a smirk. He pulls out his Bayard, slots it in the console, and gives it a turn. He can hear the Bayard lock into place.

Keith pats Lance on the shoulder, and then returns to his jump seat. "What?" he says when Lance raises an eyebrow. "It might be bumpy."

"Let's hope it isn't, mullet," Lance replies.

"Yanno, I think I like _cowboy_ better," Keith huffs out, crossing his arms and acting annoyed, even though there's a smirk at the corner of his generous mouth.

Lance laughs. "You don't get to choose, Keithy-boy. Okay, let's get this show on the road. Ready, Blue?"

Lance can feel the vibration as Blue lets out a roar into the depths of space. It's a challenge, and acknowledgement of the battle to come. Lance lets a slow smirk spread across his face, and he can feel the adrenaline start to pound in his chest.

He wouldn't give up being a Paladin for anything in the universe.

* * *

Lance drops from Blue's underbelly hatch, rather than have the Lion open her mouth and draw further attention to their arrival. They've had to enter the ship through Red's garage; Blue's was completely destroyed when the side of the ship blew out, apparently, the nacelle that acts as an entrance to Blue's bay torn away completely. Red's landing bay is dark, a distant light near the door flickering on and off offering the only real illumination. Lance steps to the side so that Keith can drop down next to him, both of them crouching near Blue's front leg so that they can assess any immediate danger and react to it.

"Any suggestions as to what we should do?" Lance says, turning so that he can see Keith better.

"Let's wait for a moment," Keith replies. "Wait for the rest of the team to check in."

Lance nods. "And then we're gonna make some noise and act as a distraction?"

"That's the general idea," Keith says with a grin. "If we make ourselves visible, maybe we can keep eyes on us rather than on anyone trying to get to the bridge."

 _[I'm in place]_ Shiro's voice comes crisp and clear through Lance's ear piece inside his helmet. _[Black is locked down in her garage with her shields up. We drew a lot of attention when we arrived, I've got at least five or six Galra here]_

"Half a squad of actual Galra soldiers? Not sentries?" Lance turns to Keith and raises an eyebrow.

[ _Confirmed. You sound surprised, Lance_ ]

Lance shifts where he kneels, moving so the grit on the floor doesn't dig in to his knees. "I just… never mind, it sounds stupid."

[ _What Lance means is that that's really unusual_ _,_ _guys_.] Hunk's voice comes in over the comm. [ _We're in, by the way. Pidge and I are holed up near the teleduv control room, and Pidge is working on accessing systems and trying to get into the internal security cameras so we can see what's going on._ ]

Keith elbows Lance. "Continue what you were saying?"

"Isn't it more usual to get a battleship full of sentries, and maybe two or three actual Galra in charge? Why has Shiro got a handful of them on his tail already? I find that really suspicious; exactly how many are on the ship, and why?"

There's silence for a moment while everyone processes. [ _Okay, good question_ ] Shiro replies. [ _We'll deal with that later, though. I'm currently crawling through one of the ducts -_ ] There's a grunt as Shiro maybe turns a corner, [ _so I can get around to one of the shafts that lead directly to the lion's garages. I'm gonna plan on climbing up one of the shafts and coming out at anyone_ _on the bridge from the inside; they won't be expecting that.]_

"Yeah, make sure Coran doesn't shoot you when you get there," Lance says. He doesn't want to think about if Coran's unable to respond – or Allura. 

[ _It'll make a good story_ ] Shiro replies. [ _I'm going silent. Sound travels and I don't want anyone to know I'm here. Let's keep talking to a minimum. You all know what to do.]_

[ _I've tapped into the security cameras for the majority of the upper decks_ ] Pidge says. Lance can hear her typing rapidly in the background. [ _I'll do what I can to keep you all updated on those Galra. Keith, Lance, until I get eyes on you, you guys are unfortunately on your own. There's a lot of damage midship with the blown out nacelle and the decks, and be aware of the areas locked down because of depressurisation, okay?_ ]

"Roger that," Keith replies. "Okay, we are going silent as well. We'll check in if we have any updates on troop numbers and movements." He pulls up the display on his wrist, swiping over one of the controls that appear, and Lance can hear as his comm goes quiet. Lance does the same, muting his. The feed goes unusually silent, and he knows that the rest of team have also gone dark.

Lance climbs to his feet, Keith following behind, and they work their way through the bay to the door. Lance feels a presence in the back of his mind; a careful admonishment from Blue to stay safe. Lance sends a feeling of love back, and the bay is suddenly awash in a pale blue glow as Blue's shields go up. Her inner voice and feelings are a little muffled behind the shield, a soft presence in the back of his mind.

Keith has his Bayard out, ready to go, and he's pressed against the bay door. 

"Anything?" Lance asks, coming to stand opposite him on the other side.

"Can't see a damned thing," Keith mutters, looking through the small window in the door. "We're just gonna have to go for it. On two?"

"Two? Wha-"

Keith slams his fist on the door plate (with a lot more force than is required, Lance notes, but it looks awesome, so hey) and darts into the corridor. Lance follows, ducking immediately to the side and taking up a defensive pose, plasma rifle locked to his shoulder. "Clear," he says, checking for movement.

"Same." Keith sighs. "Let's pick a direction?"

"We're outside Red's bay," Lance points out. "So you should pick which way we should go since you are more familiar with this part of the ship. What's the game plan?"

"Spot and take down any Galra?" Keith shrugs.

"Works for me."

Keith pauses, glancing at Lance. "Which way is Blue's bay?"

"Left."

"Okay, let's go right, where I'm gonna assume there's less destruction to the fabric of the ship."

Lance nods, and they set out. The castle reminds Lance of when they’d first arrived months ago; dark and cold. But, there’s a difference now; as they traverse the corridors, the lights remain off, leaving large sections of the corridors dark. If the lights do work, they flicker intermittently, the blue glow anemic and weak. Keith walks to the left of the corridor, Bayard sword drawn, his Marmora blade sheathed but within easy reach. Lance, keeping pace just behind Keith and to his right, holds his plasma rifle, the heavy barrel a comforting weight as it rests in his arms. It’s their usual way of operating within enemy territory; Keith to the front, Lance at the rear. Lance isn’t gonna lie; he enjoys the view. What better way to work through a tense situation than getting to admire Keith’s pert backside and thick, muscled thighs? Also, not be underestimated: the way his back dips into that little curve at the base of his spine, narrowing his waist in the tight black of the Paladin suit. Yep, if Lance is gonna die right here, it’s not a bad view to go out to, he thinks.

“Movement at two o’clock,” Keith mutters, his voice reaching Lance in a hushed, raspy whisper.

“On it.” Lance slips forward a little, pressing his back against the wall and approaching the corner where two corridors intersect, trying to present as small a profile as he can. Keith hangs back, letting Lance do his thing. Lance drops to his knee, settling the rifle against his shoulder. The target is about fifty feet down the dark corridor, barely visible as more than a menacing shadow beneath flickering blue light. He appears to be talking into a headset, hand pressed to his ear as he paces. He also doesn’t seem to be overly concerned about being attacked, which is surprising. 

Lance turns briefly to Keith, gives him a confused raised eyebrow, while Keith just shrugs. What Lance also finds interesting is that, while this guy – and he’s big, Jesus – is wearing what looks like regular Galra armour, there’s something different about it. Lance switches his Bayard over to his sniper rifle so that he can get a clearer look through the scope. Yeah, there’s something different about this guy all right, Lance observes. Most regular Galra have a purple insignia on the front of their armour. This guy has that same armour, but the insignia is unfamiliar, more like a stylized starburst, and it glows a sickly yellow green. Resting at his hip is what looks like a machete, but it’s serrated along the edge, which is either rusty or… Lance doesn’t really want to imagine that that ‘rust’ might be blood he’s never cleaned from the blade. He arms are bare apart from a pair of bracers, and on the crown of his left shoulder is that symbol again, tattooed into his skin.

Silently Lance passes the rifle to Keith, so that he can take a look. Keith passes it back about a minute later, careful not to make too much noise. He slips into place alongside Lance, thigh just resting alongside Lance’s so that they can huddle to talk. 

“They’ve got a comm system,” Keith points out. They’ve both been talking quietly to each other as they’ve moved through the damaged castle, but now Keith makes a point of sliding his fingers across the red gauntlet at his wrist, checking to make sure that his comm is muted on the incoming channel. “We don’t want to accidently trip their short wave radio frequency,” Keith explains, “or for them to come across ours and realize we are here."

Lance nods; it’s a smart observation. He checks his as well, just to be safe. “So there’s at least two of these guys down on this level,” Lance says, “If he’s talking with someone. How many do you reckon?”

“No way of knowing.” Keith leans in closer so that Lance can hear him whisper since the helmet muffles sound as well as acting as protection. “I would think a crew like this would be in a squad; they’ll be used to working together as a team. Shiro said he saw six up top, so that means there's at least twelve of them, plus a commanding officer if they're following the usual Galra squad loadout.”

“They surprised Allura and Coran, judging by what Allura said over the comm just before that village blew up on us.” Lance shifts on his haunches. “You reckon these guys are responsible for that little distraction?”

“Likely.” Keith rests his hand for a moment on top of Lance’s thigh. Lance knows he’s just balancing his weight as he shifts; that it’s a casual gesture between team mates, but it still sends a thrill of excitement through Lance, shivering pleasantly up his spine and making his breath catch in his throat. If Keith hears him, he doesn’t comment or acknowledge it.

Lance lets out a deep, slow breath, gripping his rifle. "Gonna take this guy out as soon as he's off comm," he says.

Keith nods, glances back down the corridor and down the way they came. "Shit."

"What?" Lance turns his head toward Keith. He feels Keith pat his leg and then he's gone, disappearing back into the darkness in the direction they came from, sword raised out to the side like he's gonna cleave someone in half with the slightest hint of provocation. Lance has half a second to wonder _how the fuck_ Keith could see anything in the minimal – no, almost pitch black—darkness with his stupid human eyesight, and then he realizes he's taken his eyes off Tall and Ugly in the next corridor.

 _Double fuck_.

Lance spins on his heel, staying low, and it's that movement that helps him avoid getting decapitated by Tall and Ugly's serrated blade. Ideally, a sniper rifle isn't the greatest at point blank shots but it'll do in a pinch, and Lance's gets a shot off straight away. He prefers headshots, 'cause they drop nice and fast, but he doesn't have the room for one. He gets the guy in the side, and all the guy does is grunt, but it allows Lance to roll out of the way of the blade as it sweeps down. Lance lets his body's momentum take him across the corridor, and then he's on his feet. No point in running; he's got a rifle and Ugly's got a giant fucking sword thing. This time he gets the rifle up, lines up his shot, even as Ugly's running for him. Lance ignores the way he's bearing down on Lance and takes the shot. Ugly goes down like a sack of bricks; like a puppet with his strings cut. 

"Shit," Lance grinds out, sagging against the wall and allowing himself a split second of relief that he's still alive and in one piece. He can feel the adrenaline roaring through his system, and for a moment all he can hear is a white rush of noise in his eardrums. It takes another split second to curse out Keith for rushing off. Lance stares down at Ugly; takes note of the mark on his arm. What he thought was a tattoo isn't; it looks like that starburst symbol has been carved into his skin with a blade, and that it's healed badly. Looks like this guy may have pushed ink or something into it at some point, because the scarred surface is darker, almost black. It doesn't matter in the end, Lance thinks. He's dead and Lance isn't.

Lance pushes off the wall, shoving his morbid thoughts down for later. Later, when everyone's safe and they know they have control of the castle. Only then will Lance allow himself to feel sympathy for his enemy; to think about the family he may have left behind, whether he had loved ones. Now – now, this is life and death, and Lance has an idiot team mate to go find.

* * *

When Lance finds Keith he's standing in the corridor, just past the entrance to Red's bay, back where they’d started. Pale blue light filters through the window in the loading door; the light from Blue's shield highlighting this section of corridor in ethereal ghost light. Standing at the very edge of the light is Keith; he's waiting for Lance. At his feet is a body, but Lance skips that because he's already been through that experience today. Instead, he marches up to Keith, plasma rifle cocked and loaded, held to the side, and he gets right into Keith's face, whispering furiously, "Jesus, mullet, where the _fuck_ did you go? We are supposed to stay together and have each other's back! Or did you forget about the giant motherfucker with the sword standing in the corridor while we were talking?!"

Keith frowns. "I heard noises back down here. I knew you could handle yourself, Lance."

Lance lets out an annoyed breath. "Oh, really? Flattering, but no. You gotta stop rushing off like a fucking hero all the time to do your thing. There's no 'I' in _team_ , Keith."

"He could have snuck up behind us," Keith whispers back furiously, pointing down at the dead Galra at their feet. "What's the problem, Lance? I dealt with the threat."

Lance opens his mouth and then closes it. "Okay," he says, because it's a valid point, as much as he hates to admit it. "Could you please at least let me know if you're gonna rush off again?" he bites out. "I'd hate to think I had backup and then find out I don't because I'm _dead_."

Now it's Keith's turn to look huffy and annoyed. "Stop lecturing me, Lance. I said I wouldn't do it again."

"You did _not_."

Keith leans into Lance's space, until their helmets are almost touching. "Okay, well," Keith pauses, and pouts before fixing Lance with another glare. "Okay, well, I'm saying it now, _Lance_."

"Okay, _Keith_."

Keith has the gall to actually lean forward and knock his helmet against Lance's before he pulls back, like they are playground enemies and Keith needs to have the last word or gesture before recess ends. It never fails to annoy the crap out of Lance, make ~~s~~ his blood boil and a shiver work its way down his spine. He wants to grab Keith by the scruff of his collar and –

Lance feels a mental nudge from his lion and, instead of reaching for the collar of Keith's armour like he wants to, he hesitates.

"Lance?" Keith's voice seems rougher than normal, and he swallows, never losing eye contact with Lance.

Blue gives Lance another prod. "Blue's giving me a mental nudge, but I don't know why," he explains.

There's a sudden flash of purple plasma and a shot cleaves the air between them, thudding into the wall just past where they are standing. The walls smokes, and both of them turn to stare down the corridor. A second plasma shot comes hurtling toward them, and this time Keith moves, pushing Lance toward the hanger door. The shot clips his shoulder and Keith bites off a cry. Lance reaches out and fires a shot back down the corridor, then grabs Keith and pulls him to his side. "Run, idiot," he says, firing another shot. Lance's shot bathes the corridor in a blue glow, and he makes out at least three Galra, all dressed in the same armour as Ugly. One of them has a plasma rifle, the others have serrated swords. Still, Lance isn't gonna hang around and wait for them to catch up.

"Fuck, Lance, let's go." 

This time it's Keith grabbing at him, pulling him down the corridor. Lance stops and lines up a shot; takes down the guy on the right, but unfortunately not the guy with the gun. _Fuck_. Lance follows Keith, half running, half turned toward where he knows the enemy is. They're inching their way down past the vast bay that belongs to Red, but it's a long stretch with no real cover. Not unless –

"Up the ladder," Keith urges. 

Lance nods. "Roger that." He drops to his knee, firing off another shot, then reaches for the ladder. He starts to climb rapidly, reaching the metal gangway that fits snugly against the outside wall of the hanger. He crouches down, covering Keith as he climbs up. He's favouring his arm, Lance notices. He's stowed his Bayard and is climbing hand over hand quickly, trying to present as little of a target as he can. Lance takes a shot, trying to distract the two remaining Galra, and once Keith is up on the gangway, Lance shoots the ladder out so they can't follow. Keith keys at the service door just off the gangway, breath shivering out in a relieved sigh as it opens, and then he's through, Lance right after him, slamming the door shut. They're left in the pitch dark, inside a cramped service access corridor, pressed against each other, sweaty and heaving breath like they've run a marathon. They both flinch as there's a loud banging noise against the door, and for a moment a burst of purple light is visible, outlining the thin gaps around the frame. They both look at each other, wide-eyed in the fading light.

"Fuck, that was close," Keith stutters out, just as the light fades and they are left in the dark again. 

Lance hears Keith shuffle around a little, and then there's the anemic glow of his wrist flashlight to augment the blue glow from his armour. It's an emergency feature on all the paladin suits, and it gets the job done. At least they can both see what they are doing now. Keith turns and quickly flashes the light over the hatchway; it's bowed in and the metal looks like it's been punched hard by the plasma shot that had been fired at it. The hatch is buckled enough that they both know they aren't getting back out that way, plus there's also the matter of at least two very pissed off Galra outside the door.

Lance stares at Keith and it takes a moment to note the dark stain against his shoulder. "Shit, are you bleeding?" Lance leans forward, fingertips just touching wetness, when Keith pushes his hand away.

"Yes, but I can function. We don't have time for this right now, Lance, I'm fine."

Lance purses his lips. Keith is the worse at downplaying his own injuries or difficult situations. _'I'm fine'_ could mean anything from 'I'm not actually dying' to 'it's merely a scratch'; it's often hard to tell which one is which.

“We should get a little further into the service access corridor system,” Keith says, still staring at the buckled door plates. When he turns back to Lance, Lance can see how wide his eyes are, as if it’s only starting to dawn on him how close they’d just come to being bodies on the floor. Keith gets to his feet and starts to walk down the access tunnel.

“It’s gonna be tough to figure out where we are and where we’re headed in here,” Lance points out, but begins to follow Keith anyway. There’s enough room to stand upright; most Alteans have some height over humans, but the corridors are narrow gangways, designed to get a person quickly from one place to another for repairs. There’s no comfort either; the corridors are cold due to the depressurizations on these levels, and the only light available is the thin beams cast by their wrist lights.

Lance can feel that they’re taking a steady, wide arc as they walk, circumnavigating the vast expanse of the Red Lion’s hanger. He places his gloved hand on the wall but can’t feel anything; not even the cold of space. The walls of the hangers are thick, especially so, since they are regularly exposed to the vacuum of space when the Lions enter and exit. 

Time passes; it seems to stretch and contract as they walk, a fluid concept when you have nothing to mark it by. It could be an hour, it could be ten minutes. In the quiet, between their steps, there’s a rumbling noise. Keith slows imperceptibly before picking up his pace again.

“Dude, did your stomach just rumble?” Lance whispers with a laugh.

“No.” Keith’s stomach makes another noise, refuting the fact.

Lance runs to catch up and touches Keith on the shoulder – the uninjured one. “When did you last eat? Did you have breakfast?”

“Um, no.” Keith considers for a moment. “The SOS went off while I was training, and I usually eat after that. So, yeah, never happened.”

“Damn, I should have taken some snacks from Blue when we landed.”

Keith comes to an abrupt halt and Lance almost walks straight into him. He turns to Lance, eyebrow raised. “You have snacks in Blue? Where?”

“Of course I keep snacks in Blue!” Lance exclaims, raising his hands, like this is a concept that everyone should have thought of. “What happens if I get stranded on some shitty lava planet somewhere and I’m hungry? Are you telling me you don’t?” Lance rears back in surprise.

“I don’t what?”

Lance figures that he’s starting to get to know Keith and his expressions a little better than he used to. He’s almost positive that Keith’s crossed arms and standoffish comments are because it just never occurred to him to pack emergency supplies, and now he’s pissed off with himself. 

“Dude, relax. Just stuff some of those special Paladin bars Coran keeps going on about in one of the overhead compartments.”

Keith grunts in acknowledgement and turns to continue walking. They pass another access ladder. “Do you wanna go up?” he asks, hand resting on one of the rungs.

“I’d rather go _down_ , cowboy, if you know what I mean,” Lance coos with a wink.

Keith’s deadpan expression is hilarious, and Lance just knows he’s probably trying to talk himself down inside without blowing a gasket or attempting to murder Lance in a bloody, messy fashion. There’s a fine dusting of pink across Keith’s cheekbones though, and he glares at Lance even harder.

Lance shrugs. “Just saying,” he adds, because he knows it’ll press a few more of Keith’s buttons. To be honest, if Keith called Lance on his actual bullshit and said yes, Lance would probably combust. He realizes deep down that he’s in a lot of trouble, because Keith is one of those hot yet oblivious types. Keith ticks all his boxes in so many ways, but Lance just can’t seem to get it together enough to act normally around him. It’s like Lance’s own brain wants to sabotage him ~~,~~ and, instead of acting like a normal person who Keith might actually _want_ to date, Lance turns into this semi-crazy, argumentative douche who likes to pick apart anything Keith says. Lance realizes he does it; he just doesn’t know how to _stop_ himself from being that douchebag. And, to top it off, when they are alone, sometimes Keith acts… softer around him. Like earlier in the corridor, one hand resting casually on Lance’s thigh for balance, discussing tactics. For a few brief seconds, Lance had had a storm of butterflies chasing around inside himself. For a moment, he could see how they might maybe make good partners if they weren’t constantly butting heads and arguing. It makes Lance’s throat ache, tears at his chest that this might be all they ever are to each other; bad friends, rivals, teammates that barely tolerate each other.

“Lance?”

Keith’s voice snaps Lance back to reality. “Yeah, sorry, man,” he says, voice suddenly rough. He clears his throat. “Uh, going up will take us up and over Red’s hanger; is that what we want?”

Keith’s expression has softened a little while Lance was having his internal crisis. “Shiro wanted us to stay on these mid-levels,” he says. “Okay; we’ll keep walking until we can find a way to get out of these service tunnels without getting shot at.”

Lance nods. He follows Keith in the darkness, keeping him in view, their footsteps the only real noise. They also can’t afford to be too loud – they have no idea where they really are or if the noise of their passage is audible in the hallways and rooms of the castle outside.

There’s a short burst of static through Lance’s earpiece and he looks up in surprise, seeing Keith touching the side of his helmet as well. Keith slows to a stop and, together, they turn to each other. “What the hell was that?” Lance whispers.

Keith shakes his head and bites his lip. “I – “

The comm crackles again and then Pidge’s voice comes through, thin and tinny. _[Guys, I’ve got some sensors back on line and – wait, where the fuck are you guys going?]_

Lance raises an eyebrow as if to say, _she’s all yours, buddy_. Keith frowns. “We ran into some of the Galra. Decided that being further away was a good idea. Why?”

[ _Because you’re heading for a dead end, you morons. The hull is depressurized close to where you are and you’re gonna get pinned down.]_

“Lance can shoot his way out,” Keith pushes.

Lance hears Pidge make a disapproving tutting noise _. [Look, you're gon -- ve to exit the service tunnels back out – orridor]_

__

"What? Pidge, you're cutting out on us," Lance says. He glances at Keith, who shakes his head. There's a final fizzling noise and then – just silence. "Okaaaay," he says. "So, do we think that _may_ have been important info we needed to know, or was she just, yanno, checking in to say hi?"

Keith bites his lip. He looks like he's thinking; brow furrowed in the faint blue light. "Pidge has a point," he says. "I didn't realize we'd come as close to the hull as we have?"

"Yeah, same." 

"We should probably get back out into the main corridors and see exactly how close we are to the depressurized section." Keith rubs his thumb over the side of his fingers; it's a nervous gesture he makes when he's undecided about something, or feeling vulnerable.

"It’ll be easier to pick these guys off one by one if we're out there," Lance says softly. He's not sure going outside is a stellar idea, but they aren't going to get the upper hand against the Galra if they're stuck like rats in a maze in here.

"Okay," Keith says finally, sounding a little more confident now that he has Lance’s buy-in. "We're gonna assume Shiro is where he needs to be on the bridge, and we know Pidge is okay, which means Hunk is still with her. The team is working on doing what they can." He blows out a deep breath and fixes Lance with a searching, intense look. "We should do what we can to whittle the enemies numbers down, right?"

Lance nods. They stand there for a moment, the silence stretching, staring at each other. Lance isn't sure if they're psyching each other up for the fight ahead, or memorizing each other's faces for what might come later.

"Okay," Keith says again, breaking the fragile atmosphere. "Let's do this."

"Lead the way," Lance says, pulling out his Bayard, watching Keith do the same.

* * *

It's a shit show as soon as they leave the cover of the service tunnels. It's as if the enemy knows exactly where they're going to exit, and Lance has to put down some serious fire with his plasma rifle just to get them out in one piece. Keith darts forward past Lance as soon as he can get clear. He’s a red and white blur, cutting down the opposition with his Bayard, short Marmora blade in his other hand, at times swapping them out like the ambidextrous show off that he is. Lance's sharp gaze is everywhere; keeping an eye on the enemy at the same time he’s trying to cover Keith’s erratic movements. He's handicapped here because he doesn't have the advantage of being able to snipe from above, to plan out his shots. He's firing at will, on instinct, vision a blur even as the enemy hounds them and they're forced back, giving up precious ground with every moment they are exposed to fire. Another violet plasma shot arcs past Lance's shoulder and he jerks to the side to avoid it, feeling the heat of it as it passes him by. A second shot passes almost as quickly as the first, and Lance takes his eyes off of Keith in an effort to focus on the asshole with the gun trying to take him down. 

It takes Lance moments to realize that they are being herded toward a specific point; to the end of this corridor, into another and directly toward where he knows there's a four-way intersection. It sends a shiver of dread through him – they'll be pinned on four sides unless he can whittle the enemy numbers down to something a little more manageable and even out the odds.

"Keith!" he shouts in warning, taking his eyes off the Galra in front of him to track down where his team mate is. There's a blur of red farther along the corridor, disappearing to the right. Shit, shitshit. Keith's being pushed to exactly where the enemy wants them. Harried, Lance fires off a shot and hits one of the Galra, watching him drop. The guy who's been sending a barrage of fire his way is huge, taller than Ugly was, and his long fur is twisted into locks that cascade down his sagittal crest and along his neck. Into his hair is woven what look like various trophies – oh god, some of them are human and alien _teeth_ – and Lance can't help the growl of disgust that falls from his mouth at the sight. The Galra's scarred face twists into delight when he realizes what's upset Lance, and he uses Lance's reaction as an opportunity to get a couple more plasma bursts off into the corridor, trying to take out Keith.

Lance has no choice but to retreat, to follow Keith down the corridor and cover him as much as he is able while waiting for an opportunity to return fire himself. 

Keith is already at the junction of the four corridors, under attack, two bodies of the enemy at his feet. He's as beautiful in motion as he is deadly, and it takes Lance's breath away, enough that he hesitates for a split second. The Galra herding Lance toward Keith smirks, throws his gun to one of the other Galra, and suddenly hefts a massive spear - what looks like a Japanese naginata. The blade has that same wicked, serrated edge and it glints dangerously when he turns it in his hand.

Time slows for Lance. He doesn’t have time to panic, only to react. Sound becomes a blur, movement becomes slow-motion and his vision fixes on Keith for a split second in horror.

Keith, cutting down yet another one of the enemy with his Bayard blade, turning to face Lance. 

Keith, his red paladin. Rival. Bad friend. Crush.

Keith, his friend. Stubborn, courageous, brave, always rushing headfirst into things and asking questions later.

Lance's team mate.

Lance's _friend_.

And when Lance glances backward, he watches the Galra raise that spear, intent yellow gaze filled with malice and focused on Keith, judging the distance for the kill.

When he lets the spear fly, Lance doesn't even think about it. He simply moves in front of the thrown weapon.

It feels like he's been punched, at first. Punched _hard_ in the gut, on his left side, the initial pain short and sharp, like he's been shanked. He staggers backward against the force of the throw, dropping his Bayard. His fingers grasp at the long metal shaft that protrudes from his belly, like he might be able to grip it and somehow pull it free. It takes a few seconds for the blood to well, to start to seep through the hole in the fabric of his flight suit, onto his palms and over his fingers, warm and sticky. Lance feels a surge of breath-stealing adrenaline course through him at the thought that this is it.

This is the moment that kills him. 

He can hear Keith shouting in the distance, but he sounds far away, unreachable. For a moment, everything feels dampened down like he's underwater, sound and movement suddenly sluggish and faint. He sees the Galra's eyes widen and then he laughs; a loud, ebullient rush of amusement and joy at seeing Lance's pain.

Then, Lance falls; his legs buckle from underneath him as he loses coordination and crumples to the floor. He doesn't feel the impact; the floor rushes up to meet him, slamming into him. _That's never really happened before, has it_ , he thinks. He can hear someone screaming in rage, in pure, unadulterated fury behind him. Someone’s shouting his name but he can’t get the breath to answer.

Lance blinks and when he opens his eyes again, Keith is there, standing protectively in front of Lance and over him, swords drawn, back heaving in his armour as if he’s winded. Keith glances down and says something; it might be Lance's name, but Lance can't really focus.

There's a body in front of Lance, to the side, and a splash of purple gore across the corridor wall. The fighting – and the shouting – seems to have stopped, and now it's just Lance, Keith, and that Galra. The Galra hasn't moved – no, wait – he's closer now. When did that happen? Did Lance pass out for a few moments?

Lance blinks again. 

He's tired. Suddenly _so tired_.

His head falls back to the floor. His hand shakes, and Lance tries to move, gets his hand on the dull, pulsing ache in his side, but all he can feel is the metal shaft of the spear. He can still feel a sticky warmth on his flight suit, and his fingers tremble, even as he swallows around his parched, dry throat. 

The Galra halts in front of Keith, glancing down at Lance before meeting Keith’s gaze. "The Blue Paladin fought well," the Galra says. "Well enough that I will give you the gift of knowing my name before his end." He looks down at Lance. "I am Harag, mate of Haxus."

Keith lets out a snort. "I don't know a Haxus. Should that mean something to me? To us?"

Harag looks murderous, but doesn't rise to the bait. He points at Lance. "I'll give you twenty four varga to mourn your dead; it's more than I was given.” He pauses. “Once that time is up, I will kill the rest of you; all the Paladins, your Princess and her advisor, and I will blow this godforsaken relic of a ship into so many pieces it won’t even be recognizable."

He turns on his heel and walks away, flanked by two of the remaining Galra, who keep their guns trained on Keith until they’ve turned the corner.

As soon as they've gone Keith drops to his knees, dragging off his helmet and then Lance's, throwing them to the side. He pulls Lance into his lap, arm coming around to support him, to cradle his weight. Lance lets out a sharp intake of breath against the sudden, excruciating pain, but then it fades as quickly as it came. That should probably worry him, shouldn’t it?

"Lance? Lance!" Keith's voice is frantic, thin with panic. He cards his hand through Lance's hair, pushing it back off Lance's forehead, but it comes away dipping in bright, red blood. "Lance, stay with me, okay?"

Lance frowns. Stay with Keith? Of course he’s going to stay with Keith, right?

"Hey, mullet." Lance lets his head fall to Keith's shoulder. "You kicked ass, I'm proud of you," he whispers, since he can't manage to find the breath for more than that; everything seems to be an effort.

"Don't." Keith's hand is shaking in his hair as he cards through it, but it's soothing. Lance kinda likes it; feels like it could lull him to sleep. "Don't joke, Lance." He glances down at Lance's torso and then flicks his eyes back up to Lance's. Lance doesn't miss the sharp intake of breath Keith makes. "Why'd you do that? Why would you risk yourself for me, you idiot?"

Lance huffs out a shallow laugh, manages to make eye contact with Keith. Things are getting fuzzy now, he can't feel his arms or legs. "Maybe I just like you and wanted to see you smile again," Lance slurs. "You know, you'd look good against the sunset, cowboy."

Keith's eyes widen and Lance frowns, because Keith should be laughing at his joke right about now. Instead he watches as Keith's eyes go glassy, welling with tears that spill unchecked down his cheeks. Keith pulls him closer, but Lance can't feel it; can’t feel Keith’s arms around him at all. 

He can't feel _anything_ , now he thinks about it. Strangely, he's okay with that.

"You can't die on me, cargo pilot," Keith stutters out. His voice sounds wrecked. "You still gotta beat my time in the flight simulator when we get back to earth. You –" Keith huffs in a breath, "You gotta take me on that sunset date, o-okay?"

Lance watches the tears fall from Keith's eyes and manages a smile. "I never said it was a date."

Keith laughs, tugs Lance even closer. "Asshole."

"There, _that's_ my Keith," Lance soothes. He can feel Keith's hands, cupping his cheek, stroking his thumb gently across his skin; the movement small and fragile.

His vision is fading; it's turning black at the edges. He wants to say more, but he doesn't have the energy or the breath left. Maybe Keith will remember him fondly. Maybe one day the team will make it home and Keith can visit Lance's family, tell them he did a good job, and that he died defending the universe. That would be nice.

Lance closes his eyes slowly, blinks them open. 

Keith looks wrecked. Breath caught in his throat like he's teetering on the edge of… something. Something dangerous. Something stupid. Something wholly _Keith_.

There's a blue glow nudging at Lance's vision now, a massive, reassuring, familiar presence.

Lance smiles. He knows he can close his eyes now. 

He can sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Part two to come shortly. Thanks for reading, and comments and kudos are appreciated!
> 
> (Title and lyrics from 'Ship of Fools' by Erasure).


End file.
